My name is TWO. I can’t stop smiling.

I shat on my mommy this morning. It was epic.

Remember when I said TWO’s smiles come and go so fast I can’t catch them?

This week, Husband and I had a series of arguments. Of course, I felt like he was wrong and I was right … until he told me he felt like I had been acting like a “Negative Nancy.” Burn.

Apparently, instead of telling him all of the cute and fun things I experienced in a day, I ranted about how effing hard it was. This made me pause. I don’t consider myself to be a negative person at all. In fact, I pride myself on my inner strength and ability to handle difficulty. The problem is, Husband is one of the people who gets to hear me whine about it in person … daily. The rest of you get to read about it.

If I were Husband, out working hard all day, I wouldn’t want to come home to THAT. What he said made me mad at first, and then it got me in check. I spent all of yesterday getting my shit together.

I read (in a book written by Dr. Laura — she may be crazy, but I like her work, and I find her encouraging) that as women, it is our responsibility to “shield our families” from our issues. They don’t need to know about our every insecurity, pain, struggle, and problem. That is why we have been blessed with mothers and girlfriends who will listen to us vent and offer advice. 

This struck a chord with me. I realized I can’t vent to Husband without him feeling like he needs to fix it. Unfortunately, he can’t fix the stresses I am under at the moment. He can offer encouragement and that’s about it. Luckily for me, I have a network of girlfriends who are in similar places in life and they have been an invaluable source of advice and support.

Today, I am thankful for those women. I am also thankful for my Husband, who finally decided to tell me what he felt about something instead of just staring blankly at me.

Here is a quote sent to me from one of my friends. I just might post it in every room of my house. It’s so easy to lose sight of what really matters when I haven’t been allowed to poop in peace for several days in a row.

 

I am in the midst of one of those days weeks months where I feel certain that every member of my family is purposefully trying to piss me off. Or at the very least, drive me insane.

I thought about taking this opportunity to vent about Husband and ONE and yes, even TWO (he has colic, you recall). They are all being difficult in their own special way. I was gearing up to pound out a post about my problems.

But before I could get to that, TWO started to cry. I was sitting in his room, rocking him in the quiet and begging him to sleep, when he suddenly stopped screaming and smiled at me. He has a big, dimpled grin that just melts my heart. I’d post a picture, but it’s so fleeting when it happens that I never have time to get the camera.

It was in that moment, when his big eyes were looking at me and his face dimpled, I realized that all of my problems can be dealt with. This is the part of motherhood that makes me a better person. 

Every day, I think to myself, I can’t possibly go through another day like this. But then I do. I have no choice. You can’t throw in the towel on motherhood. You press on, minute by painful minute, until it gets better.  Sometimes, an infuriating moment is immediately followed by a beautiful moment. I am here 24/7 to soak all of them up, and hopefully, by some miracle, I will survive it and I will be better because of the lessons I have learned.

Now, if you’ll excuse me … both of my children are crying. Simultaneously. 

Today, I am envious of women whose husbands work normal schedules.

Just went through some pictures on my Facebook. Realized there are some seriously unattractive ones. 

I call this one “I Love Cake.”

(In my defense, I was pregnant here.)

Fact: I’m taking TWO to the chiropractor on Wednesday. For an adjustment. Apparently colic is sometimes curable by such … and I am desperate. 

The crying was, at one point, all day long. Now, it’s just 4-5 hours per day. I feel like I might be balding. ONE has taken to chewing on his shirts, grinding his teeth at night, and has developed a fear of the dark. I know it’s stress. I mean, hearing a baby cry for that many hours per day is extremely taxing. 

I will not ask my doctor for medication. 

I will not ask my doctor for medication. 

I will not ask my doctor for medication.

Oh … my.

Yesterday, I got a much-needed, much-deserved, probably-overdue break from being a mommy. I got to be a normal girl again, just for a few hours. It was divine.

My (super fun, super cute, super generous — love her!) aunt and I went to Richard Joseph Salon yesterday and It. Was. Awesome. 

This particular salon is in a shoo-shoo part of town … where the other half lives … and consistently gets hailed as the best salon in Birmingham. And rightly so. I haven’t gotten VIP treatment from anyone in a very long time. There was food and drink. They carried my purse for me. I got a complimentary hand massage. They even cleaned my wedding rings for me while I got shampooed.

I mean REALLY.

Richard himself cut my hair. He reminds me of The Wizard of Oz. I think it was his perfectly coiffed appearance. Or maybe it was the flourish with which he cut my hair. At the end, he cut the last snip and kind of threw the pieces into the air like confetti. I was fascinated. I also found myself wondering if I should adapt the confetti throw. Surely, I can work it into my normal life. I shall look into that.

I returned to my children feeling much more equipped to deal with their foolishness. I also made up my mind that I have no choice but to get creative and utilize all of the resources available to me, because I AM DYING HERE. I have researched MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers). I need a support group.

My grandmother lives nearby and offered to watch TWO so I can do things like go to the grocery store without taking both of them with me. I did that on Friday and I don’t ever plan to put myself through that ridiculousness again, if I can help it. No amount of milk or eggs is worth feeling like I’m having a nervous breakdown.

Not that anyone involved except my aunt will read this, but I’d like to extend a big thank you to everyone who helped me relax yesterday. Especially the hand massage lady. 

I just ordered tickets to the Early Access Breaking Dawn Midnight Premiere on November 18.

That’s right.

Me and my friend Anna (thankfully, she loves Twilight as much as I do and WEARESOEXCITED) are going to hang out with a bunch of other moms in our own private movie theater, have cocktails, and wait for 12:01 a.m. to strike so we can see Breaking Dawn before the rest of the town.

Hopefully, no hardcore breast feeders, if in attendance, will recognize and berate me in public. Give me a break, people. Does natural birth not count for ANYTHING?

It’s 1:57 pm and I just brewed a pot of coffee. I already hit up the Starbucks drive-thru once today for a triple latte.

So, on a scale of one to ten … how harmful is my raging caffeine habit?